


A Funny Story, Dad (AKA: Why Sheriff Stilinski Officially Hates His Life- This Time)

by jsea



Series: Mating Games [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Awesome Sheriff Stilinski, Coitus Interruptus, Forced Proximity, M/M, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 20:23:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1831078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jsea/pseuds/jsea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He thinks it probably says something about both his life, and his son, that he doesn’t even blink when he walks into the kitchen after a long shift to find Derek Hale slumped at their table, looking about as weary as he feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Funny Story, Dad (AKA: Why Sheriff Stilinski Officially Hates His Life- This Time)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Round 2, Challenge 6 of Mating Games: Fandom Tropes (where it won first place in it's group!)

He thinks it probably says something about both his life, and his son, that he doesn’t even blink when he walks into the kitchen after a long shift to find Derek Hale slumped at their table, looking about as weary as he feels.

“Heeeey uh, Dad,” Stiles says. He’s standing in front of the sink, and it looks like he’s been washing blood off his hands. _Jesus_ , but John’s too damn old for this.

“Do I want to know?”

“Umm…" Stiles hedges. “There was a thing. With a witch?”

“Annnnd, that would be why Derek is sitting at our kitchen table at 11pm?”

“Exactly!”

John sighs. Stiles looks guilty.

“I might have….”

“Acted like an idiot?” Derek offers tiredly.

“Oh don’t _even_ , big guy.” Stiles points an accusing finger at Derek’s chest. “You were the one who got himself kidnapped in the first place.”

John clears his throat, and Stiles, looking chagrined, continues, “So uh. _Anyways_. We got cursed. By the witch. And funny story, but now we can’t get like more than five feet from each other for the foreseeable future.”

“Right, and by foreseeable you mean…?”

He’s not sure he wants the answer to that question, so he braces himself by collapsing into the chair next to Derek. He gives the werewolf a grateful nod when Derek nudges a beer that he obviously hasn’t touched in his direction. He is not a man to waste alcohol.

“Next full moon,” Derek says, and John can’t help but wonder if he’s more worried about the fact that the full moon isn’t for another two weeks, or about the fact that Derek doesn’t look nearly as upset by this as he thinks he should. John sighs and rubs at his temples. He wonders how he missed someone as broken and lonely as _Derek Hale_ falling in love with his son. 

He motions with the mouth of the beer bottle at Derek. “You can sleep on the floor.”

~

The whole Derek-sleeping-on-the-floor thing doesn’t even last one night.

~

By day three, John thinks he might have to reassess his whole stance on not thinking of the werewolves in terms of actual puppies. Scott doesn’t always make that easy, but this thing with Derek? It’s rocking his worldview in ways that learning about werewolves in the first place hadn’t even done.

Derek basically just follows Stiles around from room to room, and yeah sure, he grumbles. He and Stiles snipe back and forth like it’s the only form of communication they know, but he also doesn’t even hesitate when Stiles absently asks him to do something. Hell, Stiles doesn’t even have to ask, half the time. Derek has just started automatically doing things for him.

John thinks it’s sort of charming. Which does nothing to discourage his desire to start making subtle threats whenever Derek is anywhere within the vicinity. He’s still Stiles’ dad dammit. Also, his gun has never been cleaner.

~

John slips quietly through the front door. He’d spilled coffee on his uniform, and he figures it’ll only take a minute to change. It’s almost 2am, so he’s sure Stiles and Derek are sleeping, but better to be safe than sorry.

He heads up the stairs, carefully avoiding the creaky spots, and starts toward his bedroom.

Only to stop.

He’s not an idiot OK? He _knows_ what those noises mean, but it’s like a train wreck or something. Or maybe he’s just a masochist. 

He pushes the door to Stiles’ room open and immediately slaps a hand over his eyes. And fuck. No not _fuck_. Oh _god_. He just really needs to un-see the image of his son on hands and knees as Derek…

“Dad!” Stiles voice breaks, and there’s the sound of scrambling, and John is still just standing there with his hand over his eyes like an idiot.

“I thought you were working. Work! It’s a thing. That you do. Were supposed to be doing…”Stiles babbles, stopping only when Derek hisses his name way too intimately for John’s liking.

“I had to…” he doesn’t remember what he had to do. “Spilled coffee. On my uniform.”

“We’re decent,” Derek offers quietly.

John finally uncovers his eyes, but despite the fact that they are no longer….doing anything. And there are sheets covering all the important bits…it’s all still way more than he needs to be seeing. “I hope for your sake that you’re using protection,” he says finally. And yeah. John officially hates his life.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [(Waiting) Until the Sky Falls Down on Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3524771) by [piratekelly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/piratekelly/pseuds/piratekelly)




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